


It's A Virtue

by cyparissus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel from Sam's POV, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyparissus/pseuds/cyparissus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is happy for his brother. Ecstatic, even. Overjoyed.</p><p>He just wishes Dean would <i>tell</i> him about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's A Virtue

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Mel for the beta and Rhys for the inspiration & "choking on a meatball" line. I had so much fun writing this, man, let me tell you.

Sam _totally_ deserves the Best Brother in the World award. And all right—yeah, he's done some shitty things that would maybe invalidate his eligibility for that award but if you're only counting the last couple of weeks? Sam _totally_ deserves it.

 

Sam is sure that his saintlike patience and willingness to deal with a blockheaded and completely unreasonable brother in a calm and restrained manner will make him a shoo-in for the best brother award.

 

You see, Dean is lying.

 

This isn't exactly new, because Dean lies as easily as breathing, and isn't really forthcoming about _anything,_ but this is different. Sam is used to the lying— he gets it. Dean does a lot of things inside his head, and usually when he's dealing with something he needs to turn it around in his head for a few days (or weeks, depending on the problem) before he can say it out loud. Sam understands that, and is more than willing to give his brother any time he needs. He does wish Dean wouldn't insist on lying about it all the time, but that's a moot point.

 

In any case, when this thing started, Dean lied about it. Sam wasn't surprised but of course spotted it right away, or almost right away. He may have been a little slow on the uptake this time because— well, he hadn't been expecting it. At least not from _Dean_.

 

It was really Castiel's acting that cinched it, or Castiel's _lack_ of acting, to be precise. He valiantly attempted to follow Dean's lead with the whole lying thing but Cas had never really grasped the concept of lying. If you needed stony indifference or subtle deflection? Cas was your man. But lying right to your face? Cas was pretty much the worst.

 

So when Sam asks him—completely innocently, by the way—where Dean is, and Cas answers by stuttering and finally admitting he was _asleep, in his room, alone_ , all the pieces click together so nicely.

 

Sam isn't _surprised_ , precisely, at least not by Dean's choice in— whatever Cas was to Dean. Sam had suspected for years that Dean wasn't completely straight, and Cas and Dean have _always_ been kind of weird about each other (and Sam is totally over being jealous of that, by the way). Sam just never actually expected it to _happen_.

 

It's that Dean is _Dean_ , and totally incapable of accepting that he deserves love just like everybody else, and Cas is a freakin' _angel_ , and Sam has no idea how that even _works_.

 

Except, apparently, Dean found the one person who never listened to his bullshit and they're making it work.

 

Sam is happy for his brother. Ecstatic, even. Overjoyed.

 

He just wishes Dean would _tell_ him about it.

 

* * *

 

"Sam?"

 

Sam startles and nearly sends his coffee mug to the floor, looking sheepishly up at Bobby. Bobby's got that have-you-finally-lost-it look on, and Sam sighs. If he ever _is_ going to lose it, Dean will certainly be the cause.

 

"Sorry, just... distracted," Sam says, and Bobby doesn't let up with that look. Sam sits up straight and fiddles with the big tome he'd been pretending to read, valiantly trying to stand up against Bobby's disapproving stare even though he knows it's a losing battle. Finally he sighs again and slumps.

 

" _Look_ at them!" Sam bursts finally, gesturing towards the kitchen window immediately in front of him, which has a convenient view of the yard, where Dean has parked the Impala and opened up the hood. Dean and Cas are both leaning over it, Dean pointing at something and the expression on Cas' face is politely baffled. As Sam and Bobby watch, Cas says something that makes Dean laugh, and the answering smile on Cas' face is confused but radiant, as well as being _totally gross_.

 

"See! Did you see that?" Sam says, gesturing wildly between Bobby and the window, "He's _letting him touch the Impala_. He's only let _me_ do that a handful of times and that was mostly because he thought I was gonna have to take care of it when he was _dead_!" Sam continues gesturing wildly for a moment, just to make himself feel better.

 

"Huh," Bobby says, eloquently, eyes still on the spectacle on his front lawn. Then, slowly, he turns his frown on Sam, "You're angry about this?" Bobby asks, carefully.

 

"Yes!" Sam says, and then backtracks quickly when he sees the storm gathering in Bobby's expression, "I mean, no! Not about _that_ , the car or... Dean having somebody to show the car _to_ , I mean..." Sam trails off, looking out the window for a long moment and then sighing, raking both hands back through his hair, "It's been going on for _weeks_ , Bobby. I'm happy for him, really, but he won't _tell_ me so I can tell _him_ that I'm happy for him!" The words ring out and hang between them, and Sam realizes that maybe some of that patient annoyance has morphed into honest-to-god _hurt feelings_.

 

"You know Dean. Just give him some time," Bobby says, his hand landing solidly on Sam's shoulder, and outside Dean is laughing again.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Sam digs up a case. There's a rash of mysteriously comatose patients in a suburban town in New Mexico, and Sam thinks _good_. They'll have a full day on the road, plenty of time for him and Dean to sit together and plenty of time for Sam to subtly nudge his brother into talking to him.

 

He should have known, though, that it would all go horribly, horribly wrong.

 

Not the job—the job goes fine, some third-string Greek god causing trouble and putting people to sleep, blah blah bronze dagger blah blah goat's blood, it's all pretty textbook.

 

No, the problem is that Sam apparently has underestimated his brother's capacity for being totally ridiculous. On the ride down Dean is chatty about everything and nothing; there's a suspicious little smile that keeps creeping onto Dean's face before he realizes it and wipes it clean. It's the same smile he has when he thinks he's made a really funny joke, or when the waitress gives him a free scoop of vanilla with his pie. Sam's pretty sure it has something to do with Cas, and it's totally gross.

 

In any case, Sam makes zero progress on the subtle nudging front, and to top it off when he elbows his way back into the motel room after getting food, there's the telltale sound of wings just before he rounds the door. Dean is sitting on the bed closer to the door, his hands raised like he's cupping something invisible in front of his face. He looks frozen and stunned, at least until Sam pointedly closes the door and he jumps, his hands snapping back down to the bedspread.

 

"Oh, hey, Sammy! I didn't hear you come in," Dean says, too high and too casual and strangled, and it becomes abundantly clear that he was just making out with his boyfriend-slash-angel. Sam feels nauseous.

 

Sam stares at him for a long moment, waiting for Dean to offer up some kind of explanation like _Oh yeah Cas was here, had to leave, urgent angel business_ but Dean just stares back, because apparently he thinks his younger brother is deaf _and_ stupid. Sam swallows the urge to scowl and sulk and puts the food down on the table near the door, accepting it as Dean slowly slides back into his _jerk older brother_ routine.

 

Sam is grumpy for the rest of the night and into the next morning, wavering between telling himself not to take his mood out on his brother and remembering that Dean is the whole _reason_ he's grumpy in the first place. His mood inevitably rubs off on Dean and by that afternoon they're sniping at each other over research books and patient files. Eventually Sam gets fed up and decides to take a walk, hoping that the cool night air will clear the petty irritation from under his skin.

 

He wants to give Dean time, he really does, but he keeps circling around the fact that Dean doesn't trust his only brother with what is undeniably a huge deal to him. He knows Dean must have some piss-poor excuse like he thinks Sam will be _mad_ or something. Admittedly, he _does_ have a few questions and he can't wait for them to get over this awkward-and-terrible stage so they can move on to Sam making fun of him for the rest of their _lives._ Sam _wants_ to give his brother time, but he's not sure how much longer he can deal with the horrible show Dean is putting on.

 

Sam ducks into the gas station next to the motel on the way back, feeling calmer and more charitable than he had when he left their room, which lands him with an iced tea for himself and a selection of sweets in a bag to bring back to Dean.

 

Just as he's about to reenter the room, he freezes when he hears Dean's raised voice.

 

"What are you talking about? He doesn't know anything!" Dean sounds kind of shrieky and terrified, and Sam knows that Castiel is on the other side of the door.

 

"You underestimate your brother." Sure enough, there's Cas' voice, sounding annoyed, "I don't understand the need for this farce, when you keep calling me when he's _right outside the room._ If your brother does not in fact know the truth then continuing to act so recklessly is no way to keep a secret. Next time call me when you are actually alone." Sam guesses that Cas punctuates that sentence by going poof, judging by the way Dean yells "Cas? Cas! You asshole!" Sam chooses that moment to open the door and stride into the room, raising his eyebrows at Dean, who is standing the middle of the room and looking like he's arm wrestling an invisible man.

 

"Cas was here?" Sam asks, biting back a laugh at the way Dean whirls around and his hand twitches towards the nearest weapon he has strapped to his person. Sam doesn't bother lowering his eyebrows.

 

"Cas? Here? No, of course not!" Dean says, and laughs, manic and terrified. Sam doesn't know whether to be amused or insulted. Hadn't Cas _just_ told Dean that he was outside?

 

"So you were just... Yelling for Cas? And calling him an asshole? For no particular reason?" Sam asks, waiting for Dean to grudgingly admit to it so that Sam can finally start making fun of him. Dean just laughs again, like Sam is the one being ridiculous here.

 

"Yeah, well, you know..." Dean says, waving his hand vaguely and then turning away to root through his duffle bag like he's explained himself adequately. Sam stands there, totally dumbfounded, then takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and thinks _patience_.

 

* * *

 

 

After that, everything goes downhill. The job is fine, but apparently the argument Sam had not-quite walked in on had been a real argument and not just Dean and Cas being Dean and Cas, which means Dean is sullen and sulky while continuing to claim that he _isn't_ sullen and sulky.

 

By the time they wrap up the job and pile into the Impala, Sam is chanting the word _patience_ in his head so often that he's forgotten the meaning, and that's mostly because Dean keeps _sighing_. He's doing it without realizing, obviously; every time his control slips he looks out at the road like it's the most depressing, barren desert he's ever seen and he sighs. Every time Sam grits his teeth against the questions, the _are you okay_ s and the _do you want to talk about it_ s, because he's being patient. Because Dean is allergic to talking about things and Sam is a good brother.

 

He can wait. Or, alternatively, he could grab the shotgun under the seat and blow his brother's brains out.

 

He's still deciding which way to go.

 

* * *

 

 

It's easier when they get back to Bobby's, simply because they're not stuck in the same car anymore. Dean goes to work on some of the less-junk cars of Bobby's, which is code for "sulk", and Sam finds a big old book on Greek mythology and decides to brush up, which he is secure enough to admit (in his own head, at least) is probably also code for "sulk".

 

Bobby takes one look at the two of them and shakes his head, muttering something unflattering under his breath that Sam thinks he probably deserves.

 

Looking back, he's not sure why he thought a case would help, except for how it's always their go-to distraction technique. The scene from the motel room gives Sam an idea, though, because his brother _is_ reckless and if Sam stops being careful about barging into rooms he knows Dean is in, he's bound to catch him in a compromising position sooner or later. Sooner, probably, judging by the sheer volume of sighing he's been doing.

 

Sam wishes he had a better way of dealing with this than having to accidentally-on-purpose catch his brother with his pants down (probably quite literally), like, oh, Dean actually _talking_ to him about it. The petty irritation and small well of hurt are festering inside him, he can feel it, and he doesn't know how Dean can always, _always_ keep things inside like this. How Dean hasn't exploded, Sam has no idea, but he knows that _he_ is going to explode soon and probably end up taking half of Singer Salvage with him.

 

After lunch he sees Dean sneaking into the garage, which Sam knows is empty because the car Dean had been working on is still out in the yard, along with the Impala, and Sam's instincts tell him that there will probably be an angel in the garage soon.

 

After a quick deliberation Sam decides that this isn't the moment to barge in on, because Sam doesn't want to deprive Cas of Dean apologizing to him. Somehow, walking in on his brother having sex seems preferable to walking in on his brother having a conversation about his feelings with his angel-boyfriend. Knowing Dean, there will probably be equal parts of both, at which point Sam decides to stop thinking about his brother's sex life and get back to his book.

 

Greek mythology is much safer.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean wanders back into the house a few hours later, practically _glowing_ , and Sam feels a little of his irritation wash away. Even if Dean is being ridiculous about it, he's obviously happy with Cas, and Sam can't find it in him to be annoyed at that. After everything, Sam knows that Dean deserves the most profound, uncomplicated happiness in the world. That doesn't necessarily mean Sam is any less impatient to get his brother to finally _admit_ to being happy, though he does feel less fratricidal at the prospect.

 

* * *

 

 

When Sam’s vague plan actually comes to fruition, a week and a half later, it’s an honest-to-God accident.

 

They’d gone on another hunt earlier in the week, during which Dean was suspiciously not grumpy nor particularly chipper, which Sam takes to mean that he’s taken Cas’ advice and decided to be more subtle. The hunt goes off without a hitch, with no overheard arguments or abruptly halted make-out sessions or excessive sighing. There is the part where Dean spends three hours locked in a dog cage, but that’s really par for the course at this point.

 

So Sam gets complacent. His irritation is less urgent so he lets it slide and doesn’t think twice about elbowing his way into his brother’s room the next morning.

 

“Hey Dean, Bobby says— Oh my God!” Sam yells, slapping his hands over his eyes, but too late. The image is seared into his brain: Dean sprawled buck naked over Cas with his ass in the air, way more of his brother than he ever wanted to see. Growing up with Dean in a plethora of too small motel rooms has shown Sam way too much of his brother over the years, but none of that prepared him for this moment.

 

“Dean! What the hell!” Sam cries, hands still clasped tightly over his eyes while Dean swears colorfully, “My eyes are _burning_ , I’m going to go _blind_ and the last thing I ever saw was my brother’s _lily white ass_.” Sam groans pathetically while Dean makes a noise of indignation. Then comes Cas’ voice, confused and concerned.

 

“Sam, are you injured?” Cas says and all of the urgency of the moment falls flat.

 

“No, Cas, I’m fine,” Sam says hoarsely, “How about this: Everyone put on their clothes and come downstairs in five minutes.” Sam starts to turn towards the stairs, but Dean calls out to him, with possibly the most ridiculous thing he’s ever said.

 

“Sam, wait! It’s not what it looks like!”

 

Sam pauses, then turns around and peeks through his fingers. Dean has found some pants, thank god, and behind him Cas is fully clothed with hurt written plainly on his face.

 

Whatever level of humor had been in the situation immediately drops away. Sam stares at Dean and sets his jaw.

 

“Excuse me?” Sam says, his gaze flickering over Dean’s shoulder to where Cas is watching them closely.

 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean repeats, his eyes wide and terrified. Sam can’t help but feel offended that Dean _still_ doesn’t trust him with this.

 

“Come on, Dean,” Sam says, rolling his eyes, and Dean shakes his head vigorously. Sam waits for the punchline, waits for Dean to break down and say _yeah, me and Cas were having sex, because he’s my boyfriend_ , but for a long moment nothing happens and Sam scoffs.

 

“You can’t seriously expect me to believe—”

 

“I was giving him CPR!” Dean bursts out suddenly, with all the air of a drowning man who’s just broken the surface of the water. Sam stares some more.

 

“You were giving Cas,” Sam pauses for emphasis, “ _Castiel_ , the angel, mouth-to-mouth?” Sam says it slowly, like that will make it clearer how obvious that lie is, but Dean just nods.

 

“He was choking on a meatball.”

 

“He was _choking_ , and you gave him CPR?” Sam repeats, disbelievingly _._

 

“It was really spicy,” Dean offers up after a quiet moment, and Sam abruptly finds himself up against the wall of the amount of bullshit he’s willing to put up with. He takes a step back and then holds up a hand when Dean moves to follow him.

 

“All right, Dean, whatever you say,” Sam says, his voice icy with scorn, “You know what? When you’re done lying and hurting your _boyfriend’s_ feelings, come find me and we can talk about it like rational adults, okay?” Dean makes a shocked noise and whips around to where Cas is still standing, purposely looking away with a sad little frown. Sam turns on his heel and leaves the room, and he’s halfway down the stairs when Dean comes lumbering after him, wearing a shirt now.

 

“Sam, wait!”

 

“Whatever stupid, half-assed excuse you’re about to try, save it. I don’t care,” Sam says, not stopping until Dean launches himself down the stairs and grabs onto Sam’s arm. Sam only pauses at the bottom of the stairs because the only way he’s getting away is by punching Dean in the face. Not that he’s not considering it. Bobby is in the room, a look on his face like he’s gonna break out the shotgun, and when Sam glances back he sees Cas at the top of the stairs. At least they have an audience for their little soap opera.

 

“How— How did you—” Dean starts to say weakly, only to fall silent when Sam sends him a withering glare.

 

“I knew from the start, you asshole, I’m not an idiot,” Sam says, just getting angrier at the flash of panic on Dean’s face, “I just wanted you to tell me the _truth_.” The words hang out there for a long moment, and then Dean’s face goes blank, _resigned_ , and he lets go of Sam’s arm.

 

“Fine, whatever, you want the truth? Here’s the whole fucking truth: I am in love with that angel,” He jabs a finger up the stairs, where Cas is gaping, and glares at Sam, “I am full-on rainbows and confetti and the end of every stupid chick flick _in love_ with him, and I’m probably pretty gay too and I—” Dean’s voice cracks and he pauses, swallowing thickly and finally dropping his gaze away from Sam. When he talks again his voice is less defiant, more heartfelt, “And I’ve never been happier. There’s your truth, Sammy, I hope you’re happy.” Dean starts to move away, but Sam moves first, planting both of his hands solidly on Dean’s shoulders and finds himself grinning.

 

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam says meaningfully, waiting until Dean is looking up at him warily to go on, “ _Of course_ I’m happy. I’m happy for you.” The open shock on Dean’s face is, frankly, offensive, “You’re my _brother_ , Dean, I love you no matter who you’re interested in, and for the record? I’m pretty sure there’s literally nobody on this planet of whom I would approve more than Cas.” Sam shoots Cas a little smile, which Cas returns, if a bit dazedly. Dean just stares for a long moment and Sam is patient while he waits for this irrefutable fact to sink into Dean’s thick skull.

 

“Also on the record? I’m happy for you too, idjit,” Bobby speaks up and Dean starts like he hadn’t realized Bobby was there. After another long moment of Dean looking between Bobby and Sam, he chokes out a laugh.

 

“I can’t believe how long I—” Dean raises one hand to his forehead and Sam moves back, removing his hands from Dean’s shoulders as Dean laughs again, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, “I mean, usually when I think something’s gonna go bad, it goes bad, and when I think something’s gonna go good it gets _worse_ so I— I’m just…” Dean trails off, running both hands over his face. Suddenly Cas is right in front of him, reaching out to touch Dean’s shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

 

“Dean,” Cas says, and there’s no doubting that Dean is one-hundred-percent focused on Cas in that moment, “Your family loves and accepts you.” He says it simply, like it’s just a fact, but paired with the intense way he’s staring at Dean Sam is pretty sure Cas is including himself in Dean’s family, and that’s Cas’ way of saying _I am full-on rainbows and confetti and the end of every stupid chick flick in love_. Then they just kind of stare at each with the kind of intensity that makes Sam uncomfortable, and more than anything Sam is glad that he can’t see Dean’s face from where he’s standing. Sam and Bobby share an amused look before Bobby pointedly clears his throat, making Dean jump.

 

“Right, yeah, well. That’s… good,” Dean says, turning to give Sam a vulnerable looking smile. Sam huffs and rolls his eyes before tugging Dean into a hug.

 

“Yeah, it’s good,” Sam echoes, noticing how Dean’s hands ball into fists in the back of Sam’s shirt. After a long moment Dean pulls away, coughing awkwardly.

 

“All right, that’s enough soap opera for one day,” Dean says, but his voice is hoarse and his eyes are bright.

 

“Dude, I still can’t believe you said you were _giving him CPR_ ,” Sam says, laughing, and Dean joins him.

 

“Well it was the best I could think of, considering thirty seconds before that I had Cas’—”

 

“Dean! Oh my god!”

 

“I’m amazed I managed to speak at all, really.”

 

“Being accepting does _not_ mean I want to hear about my brother’s sex life! Jesus!”

 

“Are you boys gonna argue all morning or are you gonna come eat your breakfast? You too, angel, come on.”

 

 


End file.
